


The Mating Signal

by Australis_Reynolds



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Babel Trek Open Project (Star Trek), Cardassian Culture, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Julian Bashir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Australis_Reynolds/pseuds/Australis_Reynolds
Summary: Wherein Garak has a shoulder fetish, Quark calls everyone a cunt, Odo goes undercover as a belt, and Julian wants the P (prUt).
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 49
Kudos: 230
Collections: The Babel Trek Open Project





	The Mating Signal

**Author's Note:**

> Cardassian anatomy in this work is borrowed from Speculative Cardassian Reproductive Xenobiology (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479).

Julian stood in front of a mirror in Garak’s tailor shop with Garak, Quark, and Odo huddled around him.

“I don’t see that all of these alterations are necessary,” Julian said. “It fits just fine.”

“I’m afraid that ‘fine’ isn’t going to cut it, my dear doctor. For this mission, your clothing must fit you like a second skin.”

“Really, Garak, I don’t see why you need me on this mission at all. I don’t speak Kardasi, I’m not a diplomat, and as you’re so fond of pointing out, I lack the Cardassian talent for dissembling. I’ll only be a hindrance.” Garak continued to measure Julian. “Furthermore, given the nature of this mission, I’d expect you to want no Starfleet presence at all.”

“My dear doctor, your inattention to detail does you no credit. Except for you, all of us speak flawless Kardasi, and this is not a diplomatic mission, nor are you traveling with us in an official capacity, thus there is no need for diplomatic training. Simply allow us to do the bulk of the talking; on this mission, your main responsibility is to—what is that human phrase? — ‘sit there and look pretty?’” Garak squeezed Julian’s shoulders.

“As with most hew-mon sayings, it’s total nonsense, of course,” Quark declared. “Your sayings have nothing on our rules of acquisition.”

Odo harrumphed. “You show your own ignorance of Cardassian culture by saying that.”

“Please tell me,” Quark said, “what a hew-mon saying has to do with Cardassian culture, Constable.”

“Cardassians place quite a premium on beauty, Quark, as do the Ferengis. One can hardly look at your dabo girls and believe that you don’t have the same obsession with physical attractiveness as the rest of the solids,” Odo said.

“And in this case,” Garak said, “we have been gifted with a rare physical specimen. You are the perfect type of Cardassian male beauty, doctor, and I believe that the interested party will be, shall we say, _very interested_ when he sees you. Why, he’ll barely mind that you’re human!”

“‘ _Mind?_ ’” Julian said, aghast. “Why should anyone _mind_ that I’m human?”

“Here we go again,” Odo said.

“Typical Federation arrogance,” Quark said. “Always expecting to be fawned over with those big smiles and vacant stares and weirdly shaped heads, never considering that you aren’t the pinnacle of beauty on every planet.”

“Hey!” Julian protested.

“He does make a point, my dear doctor,” Garak said. “Compared to Cardassians, humans are unsettlingly unadorned. Your ridgeless shoulders and unembellished face will not endear to you to our buyer, but the rest of you will have to compensate.” He adjusted the fabric around Julian’s waist. “Your proportions are ideal, perhaps obscene, and once I’ve constructed the appropriate outfit for you, no adult Cardassian male could refuse you.”

“Precisely, doctor. Just sit there and look pretty,” Odo said.

“Why bring me along on a mission where I’m so utterly unnecessary? I could easily be replaced by a sexy lamp!”

“Now, now, my dear doctor, you are essential to our team,” Garak soothed.

“Then I won’t be limited to sitting around looking pretty?”

“Why, certainly not! I encourage you to also stand around looking pretty and to draw attention to your shoulders as frequently as possible. Remember, Odo only requires three minutes for his part of the operation. Surely, you can capture an old Cardassian’s attention for three minutes.”

“Am I the only one who’s the least bit nervous about my life depending on the earnest Starfleet doctor’s ability to lie to a former Obsidian Order operative for three minutes?” Odo asked.

“A lie isn't a lie until someone else knows the truth. And no one else has to know that you aren’t a prostitute, isn’t that right, doctor?” Quark circled around Julian to inspect his assets. “Definitely draw attention to your shoulders,” he said. “You’ll fetch a good price, especially with _that_ neckline.”

“You do remember that we won’t actually get latinum for him, don’t you, Quark?” Odo said.

“I don’t see why not, Constable. The doctor is worth a good deal.”

“We’re selling him in exchange for information. There will be no latinum involved.”

Quark sighed and turned to Garak. “Are you sure you can’t put him in a skimpier outfit? I have some experience in making humanoids marketable, and most customers prefer to see a bit of flesh.”

“I am designing the outfit to Cardassian standards, so there’s no need to leave half the body uncovered,” Garak said. “The shirt and trousers will be quite fitted, and of course, I’m using a transparent fabric over the shoulders and collarbones.”

“That will do, I suppose. I’d still like to see him in shorts or a nice skirt.”

“Those are not Cardassian styles,” Garak said. “And, Julian, I have your shoes already made so that you can practice walking in them.”

“Garak, I appreciate it, but I’m not going to master walking in six-inch heels by tomorrow morning. The highest I’ve ever worn before were three inches, and even those hurt my feet after an hour.”

“Doctor, the heels are indispensable. Cardassian taste lean toward the…statuesque, shall we say. Remember, we are trying to pass you off as a desirable companion for a wealthy and powerful man. If you are to catch his attention, you must the very height of beauty. Your body proportions already do a great deal; the outfit will do even more, and the heels will make you irresistible.”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t have Odo shapeshift to be the perfect Cardassian. He could be taller and thinner than I am!”

“I’m needed in another capacity,” Odo said. “You’re the only one we can spare to flaunt your shoulders.”

“Might I put my own clothes back on?” Julian asked testily.

“Oh, certainly,” Garak said, beginning to undress the doctor. “But remember—we depart for Cardassia Prime in a mere nine hours. Do practice walking in your shoes, and try to brush up on your Cardassian.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just use the Universal Translator,” Julian said, pulling on his uniform.

“Typical Federation,” Quark said. "Your entire culture is aggressively monolingual."

“Personally, I’ve never understood the value of the Universal Translator,” Odo said. “I’ve simply learned all the languages I’ve needed to understand—including your Federation Standard, doctor.”

“Really, Constable?” Julian asked. “But the Universal Translator is an essential part of cross-cultural exchange. After all, how can people get to know one another if they don’t understand one another?”

“A very Federation viewpoint, my dear doctor,” Garak said. “One could also ask this: how can people get to know one another if they erase their differences rather than examine them? I would argue that your Universal Translator is only truly useful when giving speeches to large crowds of mixed heritage.” He handed Julian the platform heels. “Do take care to practice. We’ll all be prepared to translate for you, but for your own safety, you’ll want to be able to understand what’s happening in front of you. If the strain of learning another culture isn’t too much for your Federation sensibilities, that is.”

Julian put on the heels and strutted out without a word.

* * *

Julian was still in a bad mood when the runabout departed.

“You seem to be in a bad mood, my dear doctor.”

“Shouldn’t we turn off the Universal Translator? I’m supposed to be adjusting to life without it, after all.”

“There will be no need to deactivate the Universal Translator until we have arrived on Cardassia. In the meantime, you can enlighten me as to why your mood is so dark. Don’t tell me that your feet are sore.”

“My feet _are_ sore, Garak, but that’s hardly the problem.”

“Then what ever could it be?”

“Surely, you’re joking. We had an argument, and we’ve hardly spoken since then, but you can’t understand why I’d be upset with you.”

“Ah, yes. Arguing leaves you Federation types in a bad mood, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t act as if disliking arguments is uniquely Federation. I’m sure that plenty of Cardassians have gotten angry over wounded pride.”

“My dear doctor, for someone who comes from a society that allegedly values diversity, you do have a nasty habit of sulking when other cultures assert their own values.”

“And I suppose that our argument left you cheerful, then?”

Garak beamed. “It was most stimulating! I slept wonderfully afterwards.”

“I think that you’re both being silly,” Quark said, “and when the constable comes out of his bucket, I’m sure that he’ll agree with me.”

The goo in the bucket gurgled in agreement.

“This is hardly an idle argument, Quark,” Garak said.

“No, no, of course not. No Cardassian argument is idle, after all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Julian.

“If we’re to pass you off as a desirable prospect, we must educate you on basic Cardassian flirtation,” Garak said.

Julian, irritated that Garak didn’t think he was desirable, said nothing. Quark sighed and muttered something under his breath. The goo gurgled again.

“For instance,” Garak continued, “none of this childish running away from an argument. When you argue, you should stand your ground. The more vehemently someone argues, the more acerbically you should rebut them. There’s none of this ‘agreeing to disagree’ nonsense in a respectable seduction.”

“And Cardassian seductions are always respectable, I suppose.”

“Respectable or not, Cardassian seductions always involve a certain…force of personality which you occasionally lack. When we meet with the buyer, you mustn’t demure and blush, no matter how prettily you can do so. Demurring will only break a poor, old Cardassian’s heart. You must call him a filthy old man and say that you’ll have nothing to do with him.”

“I’m not certain that you know what seduction is, Garak.”

“Oh, but I do. Humans may seduce by flattery and submission, but in a Cardassian seduction, one must always take an aggressive stance.”

“I see.”

A few minutes passed in silence. Then Garak said, “You may always practice on me, my dear doctor.”

Quark rolled his eyes. “I can tell you one thing for certain—Cardassians have no use for a subtle seduction. They want it screaming and in your face.”

“Then I suppose that I should slap you and call you a lecherous old man,” Julian said to Garak.

“By all means.”

“And I should rebuff your every advance.”

“So long as you accompany your refusals with insults, it will still be a clear invitation.”

“And I should do all of this while dressed as a sex worker.”

“Precisely.”

“Am I really supposed to seduce a man by acting as if I don’t want him?” Julian asked.

“There’s nothing less Cardassian than seducing someone by acting like you want to seduce them,” said Quark.

“Yes,” Garak said. “Traditionally, one party will pursue through escalating insults and intellectual stimulation, and the other will signal their willingness to be pursued through insults and taunts. As the pursued party, you must make any seductiveness on your part appear purely accidental. It wouldn’t do to seem as if you wanted to be caught.”

“Is there any actual way to say ‘no’ in Cardassian culture, or does every ‘no’ secretly mean ‘yes’?” Julian asked.

“If you wish to reject someone in no uncertain terms, you need only smile and demur,” Odo said, pouring out of his bucket and onto the floor. “In short, just decline to argue.” He shifted into his standard humanoid form.

“Thank you, Constable, but is argumentation really so essential to Cardassian flirtation?” Julian asked. “It all seems rather combative.”

“‘Combative’ is a good word for it,” Quark said. “You know, traditionally, Cardassians signal their readiness to consummate a courtship by—

The rest of what Quark said was lost to Julian. The doctor tried to make sense of it, but it was pure noise.

“Oops!” Garak said in accented Standard. “I must have deactivated the Universal Translator a little early. I’m only a silly old tailor, after all. We’ve nearly reached Cardassia, so we may as well leave it off, don’t you agree, doctor?” Then he turned to Quark, smiled, and began to speak in Ferengi. Garak spoke with all the mannerisms and inflections of friendly conversation, which made it all the more confusing to Julian that Quark looked terrified.

“Garak, be nice to Quark,” Julian said.

“You speak Ferengi, doctor?” Garak asked innocently.

“Not a word. But I can see that you’re making Quark uncomfortable.”

Garak smiled and said a few more words in Ferengi.

“He was being perfectly fucking nice,” Quark said.

“What were you saying about Cardassians and consummation?” Julian asked.

Garak spoke in Ferengi once again.

“I was saying that the goddamn Cardassians signal their readiness to consummate a fucking courtship by arguing like absolute shitheads.”

“Is that all?”

“What the fuck else is there?” Quark laughed nervously.

“Well, I can argue,” Julian said. “Perhaps not in Cardassian, but I excelled on the debate team when I was in school.”

“‘Debate team,’ doctor?” Garak asked.

“It’s a club where people get together to argue.”

Garak’s eyes widened. “My word, and you speak of it so openly!”

“Of course. I was a debate team champion. I defeated every opponent—well, nearly every opponent. My parents were quite pleased.”

“You mean to say that your parents watched?” Garak asked, shocked and aroused.

“Well, of course. Debate is a spectator sport sometimes performed in front of hundreds or even thousands of people. Are you feeling well?”

Garak’s ridges had a definite blue tinge. “Certainly, doctor. It just seems rather indecent to encourage adolescents—and I take it that you were an adolescent at the time—to argue with each other in front of crowds.”

“It’s a very well-regulated sort of argument. There are rules to ensure politeness and consideration.”

“Oh, well if it’s a polite, considerate argument, then there’s nothing indecent about it,” Garak said, but his ridges remained blue.

“You’ve fucking scandalized a goddamn Obsidian Order operative, you dumb cunt,” Quark said.

“Quark, why are you swearing so much?” Julian asked.

“I always swear this fucking much,” Quark said. “Does your shitty translator not pick up on it, bitch?”

“I’m afraid, Quark, that the Universal Translator sanitizes everything,” Garak said. “Typical Federaji erasure.”

“As if not to know exactly how the people insult to you is advantage,” Odo said, shaking his head.

“Whatever do you mean, Constable?” asked Julian.

“Your Universal Translator, in its infinite brilliance, does for Federajis what diplomacy cannot,” Garak said. “In Ferengi culture, it is customary for one to swear whenever one speaks, but your translator does away with that. And, of course, we Cardassians often insult Federajis but have the most offensive terms filtered out. A great deal of what we say to you simply never reaches your ears, my dear.”

“Quark? How often do you customarily call me a cunt?”

“Every fucking time we’ve spoken since the day I met your slutty ass. Why do you ask, bitch?”

“Did you never think it odd that Starfleet officers don’t call you a cunt in return?”

“Oh, but you fucking do, cunt. Your shitty translator does it for you because you’re too much of a damn idiot to do it yourself.”

“It seems, doctor, that great deal of that which you say never reaches to your own ears,” Odo observed.

“You knew about all of this?” Julian demanded.

“Quark has called to me a cunt during years, which is less irritating than that which you call to me.”

“What I call you? What on Earth do I call you?” Julian asked.

“‘Constable.’ Which is also, without doubt, that which the translator tells to you that Quark calls to me.”

“You mean that for the past several years, every time that I’ve heard Quark refer to you as ‘Constable,’ he was actually calling you ‘cunt?’”

“Of fucking course,” Quark said.

Julian took a deep breath. “I’d better go change. I need to get comfortable moving in those clothes, and frankly, I could use a little time to digest this.”

* * *

Julian returned a few minutes later, balancing carefully in his stilettos. He spun in a slow circle. The entire outfit was designed to emphasize the length and narrowness of his body. He didn’t doubt that the fabric was expensive—the top was dark green with gold embroidery throughout. The only exception to its green and gold was the panel of violet fabric that covered his shoulders, which Julian privately thought seemed derivative of the stripe of blue along the shoulders of his Starfleet uniform. The trousers were fitted in the extreme, making his legs look as though they had been painted with long, black and white vertical stripes. The entire outfit was light, and he was sure that he would appreciate it once he was on Cardassia, which was sure to be sweltering. Something troubled him, however.

Other than the tightness of the trousers, the outfit was extremely conservative. Julian had seen Garak wear lower necklines at lunch than he himself was wearing now to play the part of a Cardassian rentboy. The sleeves of his top went down to his wrists, his trouser legs went to the tops of his stilettos, and even his stilettos revealed no skin.

“Garak, what I don’t understand is this: if this is supposed to be the most alluring outfit on Cardassia, then why does it look exactly like all the other outfits you’ve made for me?” Julian had always loved Garak’s work, but the tailor did seem to have dropped the ball on this occasion.

“My dear, I do believe it’s time that you learned about Kardasi culture,” Garak said. “We Cardassians value seduction. Where you Federajis see it only as a means to an end, we view seduction as a highly desirable act in itself.”

“Be that as it may, I can’t imagine that this outfit will make anyone feel like spilling state secrets just for the chance to put it in me.”

“What is ‘it,’ doctor?”

“He means a fucking prUt,” Quark said.

“Well, this is highly irregular. We’re all forsaking our mother tongues in order to speak with you, Julian. The least you can do is make sure that all of your pronouns have clear antecedents.”

“Pardon me, Garak, but in Federation culture, it’s considered quite gauche to refer directly to—well, to reproductive anatomy.”

“How charming. The one time that you Federajis value subtlety is when you’re trying to bed someone. It’s deliciously backward,” Garak said.

“Doctor, to address to your original concern, I assure to you that your outfit is more than enough attractive by Kardasi standards,” Odo said.

“How? Except for the heels, this entire ensemble seems chaste enough to wear to a funeral!”

“You have to the skintight trousers, of course. To say nothing of the panel across to your shoulders.”

Julian stroked the violet fabric over his collarbones. He found nothing particularly erotic about the panel, but he noticed that his ministrations were drawing Garak’s undivided attention. In fact, the Cardassian’s ridges were flushed a subtle blue once again. Julian fumbled, then began to fingers his collarbones more deliberately.

“Listen, cunt, that’s too fucking much!” Quark snapped at Julian. “If you’re going to be a goddamn cocktease, Garak will fucking evert in the middle of the runabout, and I’d rather pierce my damn lobes than see that! You humans have no fucking respect.”

“Wait,” Julian said. “You said, ‘humans.’”

“I always fucking call you a human.”

“No, you don’t. You call me a ‘hew-mon.’”

“Blame my idiot brother Rom. He screwed up my translator and couldn’t figure out how to change it back!”

Julian privately suspected that Rom had done it on purpose, but kept his mouth shut, instead saying, “This material at my shoulders and collarbones was supposed to be transparent.”

“It is perfectly transparent to Cardassian eye, doctor,” Odo said. “Remember that the Cardassians have much sharper vision, particularly night vision, than the humans do. The Cardassians are perfectly capable of to see through the fabrics that the humans see as opaque.”

“Is that true, Garak?” Julian asked.

Garak gave Odo a disapproving stare. “There may be some truth to the constable’s claims. However, I would not go so far as to say that we can see through such fabrics without issue. Only that by Cardassian standards, they might be described as gossamer.”

“Like lace is to humans.”

“Precisely, my dear. I am impressed by your keen mind.”

Julian touched the material at the shoulders, frowning. “So this material would be used in—lingerie?”

“One could draw that analogy,” Garak hedged.

Julian tried to limit how much he stroked his collarbones after Quark’s comment, but he had to touch the light fabric and ask, “Then why does this material feel so much like the cloth that you usually make my clothing out of?”

Julian ignored the faint choking sound in the background as Garak blinked at him.

Julian continued. “It feels remarkably like the cloth that you made my latest shirt out of. I’m positive. Does all Cardassian fabric feel so similar?”

“To your untrained Federaji fingers, yes, many of our find Kardasi fabrics would be indistinguishable,” Garak said.

“I’ll have to take you at your word, Garak. I mean, it’s not as if you would put me in lingerie all the time.”

“We must blue your chufa!” Garak burst out. “That will the final step in your transformation.”

“I don’t have a chufa.”

“We all know that, but without a blued chufa, onlookers wouldn’t be sure whether you were a prostitute or simply an attractively-dressed man.” Garak rubbed a little pigmentation in an oval on Julian’s forehead. “There you go,” he rumbled. “There will be no room for doubt now.”

“Garak, does a blued chufa signal sexual availability in males?”

“Among Cardassian males, pigmenting one’s chufa is a clear invitation. He won’t be able to resist you.”

“Garak, do you really think a loyal officer will sell out Cardassia just for a man who paints his forehead, exposes his collarbones, and yells at him?”

“Doctor, there’s no doubt in my mind.”

Julian turned back to Quark and Odo to find that Odo had disappeared and Quark was standing there gagged. The doctor jumped as Quark’s gag transformed back into Odo.

“What the fuck was that for, cunt?”

“Pardon to me, but I think we can all agree that was advisable to keep to Quark gagged for that conversation. Only the Prophets know what he might have blurted out,” Odo said, brushing himself off.

“Thank you for your service, Odo,” Garak said. “And Julian, we’ll be arriving shortly. Take care not to smear your blue between now and then, my dear.”

Julian frowned thoughtfully.

* * *

Julian was bored and frustrated. Going undercover to get military intelligence from a powerful Cardassian official should have been the highlight of his career, but so far, he’d only been sidelined. He was sitting in a secret Cardassian military base, and all he could think about was how hot and dark it was.

“How much longer will I have to wait?” he whispered to Odo, who was currently in the form of a belt around Julian’s waist.

The belt sprouted a mouth just long enough to say, “You must treat to me as inanimate object if our plan is to work.”

Julian sighed and leaned back. Garak and Quark were meeting with the buyer privately. The man had yet to come out to inspect the goods.

“If I were buying a prostitute, I would certainly want to see him,” Julian complained. His belt made no answer.

Finally, the door opened and an imposing Cardassian man stepped out. Julian rose eagerly, but the man looked on him with scorn. “You are tolerable,” the Cardassian declared in Standard. “Only tolerable. Handsome but very naïve.”

Julian fought to remember his training. “You’re a lecherous old man, and I wouldn’t touch your prUt if you were the last Cardassian in the universe.”

“Basic flirting. Unimpressive. Dramatic. Predictable.”

“I have better things to do than impress you,” Julian ventured. He looked for Garak and Quark, but there was no sign of them. His belt slid to the floor. The Cardassian inspected him as Julian bent over to pick it up.

He loudly hissed something that Julian couldn’t understand, and Quark and Garak emerged from the other room. Julian didn’t understand most of what he was hearing, but he was fairly certain that they were negotiating his sale. Finally, the Cardassian handed an isolinear chip to Garak and hissed something that made the tailor’s smile go tight.

“You come to my quarters,” the Cardassian said.

Julian smiled demurely, remembered what Garak had told him, and said, “You’re a filthy old man, and I won’t have you.”

“Save it for the fucking bedroom, slut,” Quark said.

The other men hissed among themselves for a minute, and then Garak said, “The transaction is completed. We will leave you now.”

Julian nodded and followed the Cardassian to his chambers. It was all down to him and Odo now.

He had better sense than to sit on the bed, so Julian took a seat by the window. Soon the Cardassian came behind him and began to massage his shoulders roughly.

“I’m not so easily won over,” Julian declared.

“I’ve heard Federaji males are feisty. I’m glad it’s true.”

Julian huffed and unfastened his belt.

“You are easily caught.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of being uncomfortable for your viewing pleasure,” Julian said, tossing his belt out of the Cardassian’s line of sight. It quickly morphed into a vole and crawled away. Julian only needed to stall for three minutes for Odo to carry out his part of the mission, but three unsupervised minutes in the quarters of a former Obsidian Order operative weren’t easy to come by. Julian’s diversion would have to absorb the Cardassian’s attention entirely.

“What else would an empty-headed slut like you do? You are too Federaji even to speak Kardasi, but you think you can provide more than viewing pleasure?”

“I can do more than sit and look pretty, you washed-up pervert.”

“I doubt it,” the Cardassian said, his hands snaking down to fondle Julian’s collarbones. “It would be a waste to use such a fine body for anything but pleasure.”

Julian slapped the man’s hands away. Garak had been quite clear the Julian could leave his buyer dead or alive so long as Odo had the time he needed. Julian slipped a hand down to his stiletto and silently snapped off the heel.

“I’ll show you what else I can do,” Julian said. He stabbed the Cardassian with his heel.

The man hissed, grabbed Julian by the shoulders, and slammed him against the wall. Shit. He didn’t know why he’d thought that a heel could be flimsy enough to snap easily but sturdy enough to penetrate thick Cardassian skin. Julian held still and prayed for Odo’s speedy return. Then something occurred to him.

The man pinning him against the wall was making no move to harm him. In fact, the Cardassian was holding him carefully enough to compensate for Julian standing on a broken heel. He listened carefully to the man’s hissing, only catching the words for “eager” and “strumpet.”

“Feisty. Wonderfully feisty,” the Cardassian hissed before leaning in to claim Julian’s mouth. The doctor was too baffled by this turn of events to respond, but the man seemed to need no further encouragement from him.

The Cardassian manhandled Julian onto the bed. A moment later, he collapsed to the floor, clawing at the vise around his neck. When the Cardassian went still, Odo unraveled himself from the man’s neck and resumed his humanoid form.

“What just happened?” Julian demanded.

“From your positions, I would guess that you attempted to stab to him,” Odo said.

“And why should that provoke such a response?”

“You gave to him mating signal.”

“When?!”

“When you attempted to stab to him. Remember, doctor—Cardassian seduction is sustained through the insults. The attempted murder is mating signal.”

“ _Murder_ is the mating signal?”

“Attempted murder only, although the purists will make to you believe that a sincere effort must be made to kill to one another. Humanoids!” Odo harrumphed.

“Wait,” Julian said, “if that’s how you consummate a courtship…” He remembered shooting Garak in the holosuite. “It must be easy to send mixed signals in a courtship.”

“Doctor, if you could halt your crisis during a moment, we _do_ need to escape.”

* * *

“I’ve informed Major Kira of the mission’s success,” Julian announced, limping onto the Bridge.

“Your carelessness with your footwear makes me glad that the stilettos, at least, were merely replicated,” Garak said as the doctor pulled off his damaged shoes. “I take it that you valued the rest of your outfit more highly, judging by the fact that you haven’t changed back into your Starfleet uniform.”

“I’m not in the mood, Garak,” Julian grumbled, standing by the tailor’s side.

“Why not? I’m beginning to think that there’s simply no pleasing you, my dear. If I praise you, you demur. If I rebuke you, you sulk. Just now we have retrieved vital information by using methods straight out of one of your James Bond holoprogams, and yet you are in low spirits. What must I do to please you, my dear?”

“I’ve noticed something since you turned off the translator—and don’t bother to lie and say that you didn’t do it on purpose. You didn’t want Quark to tell me how Cardassians consummate their courtships, so you shut off the translator and threatened him in Ferengi. And all of that I could live with, but I wonder sometimes if you really know what you’re saying.”

“Whatever makes you think that I don’t know what I’m saying?” Garak asked, rising to face Julian.

“I’ve been calling Quark a cunt for years without realizing it because I had no way of knowing how the translator was twisting my words. And it’s occurred to me that the same has happened to you.”

“To me? Surely not, my dear. I keep my own translator disabled most of the time so that I may hear others directly.”

Julian shook his head. “I’m still hearing your words in translation, though.”

“You certainly are not. I value precision of language far too much for that. I learned your Federaji Standard. When withdrawal negotiations began on Terok Nor, as the station was called at the time, I immediately began to study the language in order to avoid precisely the sort of cultural miscues you’ve been experiencing with the Ferengi all of these years.”

“Ah, but you forgot to account for one thing.”

“And what is that, my dear?”

“Can’t you guess it? After all, you were the one who told me that the Universal Translator sanitizes everything and filters out all the most offensive terms that Cardassians use.”

“Julian, are you implying that all these years, I’ve been calling you offensive terms without your knowledge?”

“Not at all. Or, at least, not what _you_ would consider offensive terms. Your speech patterns have been nearly identical without the translator, but one change stood out to me. It interested me so much that I asked Major Kira about it when I spoke with her just now.”

“And what has Major Kira to do with this supposed cultural miscue, pray tell?”

“Most of the code for the Universal Translator is open source, but there are a few details that are hidden from the general public. Only someone on the senior staff would have clearance to make or view such changes, and given the nature of the changes, I felt that Major Kira was the most likely person to be behind them. Surely, you remember how shamelessly Dukat has always flirted with Major Kira?”

“We all remember, doctor,” Odo said.

“This is a private conversation, Odo,” Julian said.

“Yeah, it’s a private fucking conversation, cunt.”

“That goes for you, too, Quark.”

“But things were finally getting fucking good! It’s hardly my damn fault that you cunts are more repressed than Vulcans undertaking goddamn Kolinahr!”

“Garak,” Julian said sweetly, “would you make them go away? You have my full permission to threaten them as much as you see fit.”

“But of course, my dear,” Garak said. He screamed something in Ferengi that had Quark scampering out of the room and Odo oozing hastily away. Garak turned back to Julian with a smile. “I do hope that that will prove sufficient.”

“I have full confidence in your abilities.”

“You flatter me. I am, after all, but a simple tailor. Now, how does Dukat’s posturing for Major Kira relate to our current dilemma, whatever it may be?”

“Why, it’s quite simple,” Julian said. “Dukat was constantly flirting with her, so she made a few simple changes. Naturally, Captain Sisko was perfectly willing to approve her changes and keep them private so that Dukat himself would never become aware of them.”

“A fascinating history lesson, I’m sure,” Garak said flatly, “but I fail to grasp how changes that Major Kira made to prevent Dukat from flirting with her would affect you and me.”

“Ah, because after conferring with Captain Sisko, she felt that everyone on the station should be kept safe from Cardassian flirtation, so she altered the translator so that any attempt by a Cardassian to call a non-Cardassian a term of endearment would be blocked. No matter what Dukat says, Major Kira won’t hear anything more intimate than her given name.” Julian smiled expectantly.

“Which is more than intimate enough for a Bajoran. But, my dear, do you mean to tell me that in the entire time we have known one another, you have never heard me call you by any term more intimate than your own given name?”

“Well, that depends on your standards. How do you feel knowing that all these years, you’ve been calling me your dear _doctor_ and not simply your dear?”

Garak hesitated. “Quite put out,” he ventured.

“Would it temper your disappointment if I offered to shoot you again?”

“My threats must be terribly insufficient if Quark told you that little tidbit,” Garak said with a cold smile.

“Oh, it wasn’t Quark. You see, I broke off my heel with the intention of stabbing my buyer.” Garak went very, very still. “You can imagine my surprise when stabbing him didn’t have quite the intended effect.”

“And what did he do to you after you had stabbed him?” Garak asked. “I trust that you did not, after all, succeed in killing him, or you would have learned nothing from the experience.”

“I didn’t succeed in killing him, though Odo did. Not before I realized that nothing could have delighted the old Cardassian more, however. Tell me, if I were to call Quark back this very second and ask him about your recent holosuite activity, would I find that your most recent adventures have revolved around the time I shot you?”

Garak blinked innocently. “My dear, even under the harshest interrogation, Quark would be unable to provide you with any information about my activities in the holosuites because I, unlike some people I could mention, have the discretion to bring my own program and not inform the bartender where I am going.”

“I have one last question for you, Garak,” Julian said. “Why didn’t you advise me to stab him? If it’s so irresistible to Cardassians, then surely I should have planned to do it all along.”

“I’m afraid that I never would have advised it. If the constable hadn’t intervened, there would have been no stopping the buyer from mating with you on the spot.”

“Attempted murder is that attractive to Cardassians?”

“Oddly spoken with disdain! I am given to understand that humans have a similar tradition involving a third party known as ‘Cupid’ who shoots the other two through the heart using a primitive bow and arrow.”

Julian shook his head. “I think we’ve talked long enough.” He seized Garak by the shoulder ridges and slammed him against the control panel. “You are without a doubt the stupidest Cardassian I have ever met and the worst tailor.” He bit Garak on the third scale down on the right. “And I wouldn’t mate with you if you were the last Cardassian in the quadrant.” He repeated his bite on the left. “You are a lecherous old fool,” he paused to slap Garak across the face, “and I’ve certainly never fantasized about having your prUt in mouth or arse.”

Garak pounced.

* * *

“I would like to offer the four of you my unofficial congratulations on retrieving the information from Cardassia Prime,” Sisko said. “Did you encounter any trouble on the way back?”

“None whatsoever,” Quark said.

“Then please explain how you managed to crash the runabout. Chief O’Brien will be doing repairs on it for the next three weeks!”

“Quark and I weren’t at the controls at the time, so we are unable to provide details on the matter, but I am given to understand that either Dr. Bashir or Mr. Garak accidentally hit something on the control panel to disengage the autopilot.”

“Is that correct, gentlemen?” Sisko asked.

“I’m willing to accept full responsibility for the accident,” Julian said.

“Quark and Odo, you are dismissed.” The men exited. “Now, doctor, am I to understand that you personally disengaged the autopilot?”

“Er, it’s difficult to say, captain,” Julian hedged.

“And why is that? Simply by reviewing the recordings, we should be able to determine which of you made the mistake.” Sisko reached for his PADD, and Julian let out a horrified yelp.

“I believe that what he is trying to tell you,” Garak said, “is that at the time of the incident, it was rather difficult to tell where my body ended and his began.”

Sisko stared blankly ahead for so long that Julian pulled out his medical tricorder and began to scan him.

“I’m not in shock, doctor,” Sisko said. “Unfortunately, the recording appears to have been deleted, and so we will be unable to review it. In light of the service that you have performed for Bajor, I’m sure that we can overlook any damage done to the runabout. Now please get out of my office.”

“Once again, human lewdness has proven to be your downfall,” Garak said as they exited Sisko’s office. “I’m thoroughly unsurprised.”

“It’s half your fault as well,” Julian protested.

“Half _my_ fault? You wanton tart! I was innocently piloting the runabout when you threw yourself at me like a beast in heat!”

“Gentlemen,” Jadzia said.

“Oh, and I suppose that you got nothing out of it, Mr. Garak?” Julian mocked.

“I capitulated out of fear for my life when your filthy, base intentions became clear. I would have been perfectly happy to fly the runabout back to the station, but no, the human was feeling frisky! How was I, a simple tailor, to know that humans are as insatiable as they are arrogant?”

“You’re the one who’s been putting me in lingerie for the past four years!”

“Gentlemen!” Jadzia said.

“I did so out of mere consideration for you, poor harlot,” Garak protested. “With no ridges whatsoever, you would have to resort to walking around in lingerie to make yourself attractive to any species with a decent sense of aesthetics—

“SHUT UP!” Kira shouted. “WHY WOULD YOU HAVE THIS CONVERSATION IN OPS?”

“Ah, Major Kira, I’m pleased to see you!” Garak said.

“That makes one of us,” she said.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your program preventing Cardassians from using terms of endearment.”

“I’ll edit it to make as many exceptions for you as you want if you’ll just keep your flirting out of Ops!”

“Certainly, major. Julian, will you come with me to my shop?”

“Gladly, my dear.”


End file.
